


In love I've always been a Mercenary

by jojomustlive



Category: Deadpool (2016), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: But also, F/F, Genderswap, It's like a year difference but still, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Peter's older than Wade, Self-Insert of sorts, The Author Regrets Everything, The Author Regrets Nothing, We're just messing around here
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-10
Updated: 2018-04-16
Packaged: 2019-04-21 04:53:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14277327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jojomustlive/pseuds/jojomustlive





	1. Chapter One - Show Me the Real You (Second First Impression) Pt. I

\- Night -

                I'm so screwed. Literally so fucking screwed. Whose idea was it that crime-fighting was a good part-time-job?

                I see two guys to my left, huge-ass blasters on both hands, and a few more to the right (with a set of weapons of their own, of course). I'll admit - I may have taken a bigger bite than I could chew. Also, I  _probably_  should have accepted Deadpool's offer to help. I'm woman enough to admit my  _few_  and  _far-between_  mistakes, though.

                Seeing that my options are limited, I jump right into the action. I get hit by a couple blasts that are most definitely going to hurt like a bitch tomorrow morning, but three guys are down so I'm counting it as a win. The satisfaction is short-lived though, and suddenly there's a blaster pointing right at my skull. Freaking thugs, man.

                "You think you're some superhero, eh? You're nothing more than a rando wannabe, bitc- AH!", a katana gashes the thug's shoulder (quite gracefully, may I add) and he screams out in pain, blaster long-forgotten on the concrete ground of the alley.

                "Well, it simply isn't very nice to threaten our friendly neighbourhood Spider-woman now, is it?" The voice belongs to no other than Deadpool herself. Guess I'm in no place to complain considering that- "Yeah, Spidey, I totes just saved your perky beautiful butt." How does she do that? Seriously. "Not that I stare at it. Of course, I don't."

                "Of course you don't, Deadpool." I reply tiredly but she doesn't seem to mind it. Her mask is incredibly expressive, and it's almost like I can  _see_  her eyes scanning me yet again. It should bother me way more than it does. I'm blaming it on the fact that I haven't slept my full seven hours today, and I'm blaming  _that_  on Mr Stark's new stupid project. With stupid Gaby Wilson. "Thank you, by the way. For helping me out. Also, for not 'unaliving' that guy. I know that's not your usual style." Her face lights up as I speak. Goddamn, this woman.

                "Oh! It really is no problemo, Spideychums! I'm always happy to help New York's perkiest heroine." She looks down for a moment, as if embarrassed. Huh. Didn't think that was possible. "And about the no-unaliving thing... I wouldn't want your name linked to something like that, sweetums. Gotta keep that brand going, right?" We both chuckled at that. 

                "I appreciate the consideration, then." I attempt to stretch myself, but everything hurts and I hiss in pain. Deadpool eyes me with what seems like concern.

                "Always glad to help, baby girl. You need help with those blast burns?" She tilts her head slightly, which shouldn't be as cute as it is. It's Deadpool. I keep forgetting that.

               "Nah, I think I can manage."  I try to show a nice smile so she'll know I'm okay, but the mask makes it quite hard. She seems to understand it anyway.

               "Okay then. At least use some of this-" she starts looking for something inside her suit... yeah, okay. After a couple of seconds, she hands me a small container. I take it. "See you around, baby girl!" And she was gone within a moment.

                "I'm OLDER than you!" I shouted, indignant. She didn't reply, but I could hear her laughter coming from afar. It's a funny contrast to the criminal's whimpering.


	2. Show Me The Real You (Second First Impressions) Pt. II

-Later that night-

            After the unfortunate encounter, things actually go pretty smoothly. The police were mostly cooperative, mind a few dirty stares. Not that I care at this point. I'm helping, aren't I? That's what bloody matters.

            It's nearing three in the morning when I reach my apartment. I take the suit off and, holy smokes, it will only take me forever to fix the blaster holes (Freaking thugs, man!) It's in this moment that the container Deadpool gave me comes to mind. I take a closer look: it's one of those expensive creams that contain nanoparticles of silver in it. It is actually an older version of the one I had just agreed to help Mr Stark and Wilson in regards to all the advertising bits a couple days ago. Huh. It's definitely better than anything I got in my cabinet, so I guess it could do no harm, right?

            Thank God for my healing powers because this burn definitely seems to be of the third-degree kind. I spread the substance evenly and do my best not to scream because of the pain. No neighbours need to be bothered tonight, thank you very much.

            It doesn't take me long to start feeling, even if just slightly, better. Guess I owe Deadpool another thank you.

            I lay awake in bed. My mind keeps running through every little detail of tonight's memorable encounter. Deadpool seemed... different. More grounded, I'd say. She showed genuine concern and yet again tried to help me even though I brush her off more often than not. Slowly the tiredness starts to take over, and my last thought before drifting off is of a petite frame and warm sounds of laughter...

\- Next morning -

            I wake up the next morning with the annoying ringing of my phone. It's my Dad and _oh shit_ it's already 9 AM and I had promised to meet him for breakfast.

            I pick up the phone and try not to sound like I've just woken up. "Heeey dad... everything okay?" Pretty sure it's not very effective but still.

            I hear him sigh on the other side of the line. "Well good morning to you, miss Julianna. So far it hasn't been the greatest morning because _someone_ has overslept through our breakfast date. _Again_." Though he sounds mildly annoyed, it doesn't even come close to how he sounded when he caught Gwen and I trying to skip Sunday School so I'm guessing it'll be okay.

            "I'm really sorry, dad! I just..." It always stings a bit when I have to lie to him, even if it is for his own safety. My dad always reminded me that sometimes the right choice is the hard choice. He probably didn't mean for it to be used as my justification for lying to him but still. "... you know. Mr Stark has asked me to help promote this new product so I spent the whole night preparing for today's meeting." It's almost as if I can _hear_  Dad's interest being peeked after Mr Stark is mentioned. I don't really mind it. In fact, I'm actually happy for him. Ever since mom died he always seems so, I don't know, sad. His mood seems to improve significantly whenever Mr Stark is around, though. However, he doesn't seem to have figured out that Mr Stark's mood _also_ significantly improves when he's around and that that is NOT a coincidence, my friends.

            "Oh, okay. Yeah, I understand, you gotta work hard to achieve your goals, right? I'm proud of you, kid. God bless that creative brain of yours." His smile is almost palpable in his voice. I can't help but break out a grin of my own, my dad's encouragements always have that effect on me.

            "Thanks, dad. Breakfast rain check?"

            "Maybe we can just meet up for lunch today? I'll pick you up at Stark Tower and we can have lunch on that Mexican place you love. Sounds good?" It sounds perfect, actually. After a rough night, there's absolutely nothing better than some good ol' Mexican food to make me forget all my troubles.

            "It sounds great, dad! I'll actually see if Mr Stark wants to join us. The man sure loves his tacos!" We both laugh at that.

            "Indeed he does. Alright, I'll see you later, then. Take care, sweetie."

            "I will. See you!" And with that, the call is over. I rush out of bed to get ready for the meeting, I wasn't lying when I said Mr Stark had set one up for today.

\- x -

            I get to Stark Tower with time to spare, and I use the extra minutes to go through my notes and ideas once more, just to make sure. Not more than a minute later, I hear Mr Stark's footsteps getting near. I get up and he doesn't waste a second, going straight for the hug. His hugs are definitely one of my favourite things in the world. He hugs like he means it, you know?

            "Jo! How are you, kid? Hope you brought us some of your amazing ideas again." Mr Stark's grin is wide, and I'm pretty sure I have one to match. I'm about to answer when I hear a not-so-subtle clearing of the throat coming from no other than Gaby Wilson. Kinda had forgotten about this part, eh.

            I shoot one more smile at Mr Stark before directing my attention to Gaby. "Hey there, Miss Wilson. How are you?" She affirms she's fine and smiles politely, at me, and I do the same. I launch my hand forward, and she seems to hesitate for a second before shaking my hand. When they meet, I'm surprised by the odd texture of her skin, it's an uneven mixture of soft, firm and even bumpy in some places. It's over before I can draw any kind of conclusion about it, though.

            The meeting goes as well as can be expected, and, before we realize, it's almost half-past noon and we're wrapping up our final ideas for the next campaign. We exit the meeting room and enter the elevator, the chatter never ceasing, our heads still buzzing with ideas. Once we reach the reception floor, I see Dad sitting in one of those comfy lounge chairs and chatting excitedly with Pepper Potts, Mr Stark's assistant and one of his closest friends. Pretty sure they dated for a while too, but nobody ever really talks about it so...

            Anyway, back to the important stuff. My Dad seems really engrossed in his conversation with Pepper, but then Mr Stark calls out for him (an of course _very manly_ "Steeeeve!!") and you can _see_ him light up like a goddamn Christmas tree. Not that the billionaire looks any better, I swear you can see Mr Stark _melt_ when they hug.

            I reach them at a slower pace, and I'm surprised to see Gaby is still next to me, I kind of assumed she would've left by now. She's usually quite reserved, keeping everyone at an arms-length. It is actually one of the reasons I was dreading the idea of working with her. I've seen how much she's capable of, but she's not very open to the idea of team effort and all. She surprised me today, though. She was much more receptive to my ideas and inputs than I expected, considering everything that was said about her.

            Granted, she gave me one or two defying glances when my behaviour boarded cheeky, but I don't exactly blame her. I'm not the easiest kid to work with either.

            My train of thought is interrupted by my Dad's voice.

            "So, Tony, Jo and I are going to that Mexican place nearby that you love. Care to join us?" Tony mutters a  "Is that even a question?" and rolls his eyes, already leading my dad to the door with his hands on the veteran's broad shoulders.

            I'm about to follow them when I take one more look at Gaby, who's looking at the carpet as if it's the most interesting thing in the world. I recognize the sentiment. Feeling left out is never fun. Before I really process what's happening, I'm already blurting out: "Do you maybe wanna come with us?"

            Gaby looks up at me, face filled with what seems like confusion. She looks taken aback, not sure of what to say. "I-It's okay. You don't have to-"  
            "No! I want you to come." I rush to say. She raises an eyebrow at the statement. "Come on, don't make me be the third-wheel to my Dad and my boss." I insist. It gets a chuckle out of her.

            "Yeah, how's that working out for you, by the way?" She looks at me, her face showing her clear amusement. I shrug and admit: "I try not to think about it too much. My Dad is happier when he's around, and Mr Stark is a good man, looks after him even though my Dad's too stubborn to admit he ever needs any help. I do sleep a little easier knowing he's got my Dad's back and all." She ponders for a moment, then nods in agreement. "Fair enough." And we leave it at that.

            After that, we head for the front door where Dad and Mr Stark are waiting for us. They eye me questioningly when they see Gaby following close behind, but I just shrug and motion for us to enter Mr Stark's car. Lunch surely seems like it'll be a more interesting affair now.


	3. Handsome stranger you have made her happy/ The first in a long time!

           The ride is a quiet one, filled with a comfortable and familiar silence. The radio plays some generic pop song and Mr Stark, of course, hums along to the melody. Every now and then I can see Dad shooting an amused glance at my boss, who playfully sticks out his tongue whenever he notices said glance.

            Wilson remains quiet, but I'll admit I expected that. Now that I think of it, she's quite the contrast to Deadpool. Not that I've been thinking about Deadpool. Of course, I haven't.

            It doesn't take more than ten minutes to get to the restaurant. The owner, James Rhodes, or Rhodey, as Mr Stark loves to call him, greets us warmly. Dad and he have been friends since their army days, and Tony has known the veteran for more than a decade at this point. It's actually thanks to him that I got my first internship with Mr Stark when I was around fifteen.

            Rhodey makes sure to get us one of the best spots in the house, not too close to the air-conditioner that we all become too cold to function and not too far from the kitchen that they forget we're even there. It doesn't hurt that the table's also got a pretty nice view of the surprisingly quiet street it's located in. When you take a closer look you can appreciate how the sun bathes the trees with sunlight in a way that makes it look like a painting.

            I've lost count at this point of how many times I took a picture of the view. Honestly, though, can you blame me? I reach for my phone and squat down so I can capture the narrow window in its entirety. Gaby looks at me funny but waits until I'm done to comment on it.

            "So you're a photographer too, eh?" She questions, her voice coming out softer than I expected, and definitely softer than I've ever heard it.

            "More of a hobby than anything." I shrug and she nods in understanding.

            "Do you take a lot of them?"

            I shrug again. "I guess. I take a picture of anything I think is worth a second glance. Like this!" Abusing of my abnormal speed a little bit, I snap a candid of Gaby's frowned face.

            She looks at me indignantly, her already quite big hazel eyes looking wider, even causing her frown lines to make an appearance. I show her the picture and she exclaims "Oh my God! Delete that!" to which I, of course, respond "Never!" and we get into a _very mature_ tackle fight. It doesn't last very long though, as we hear Mr Stark clearing out his throat and are now reminded of our surroundings. The moment is gone. I can feel my blush creeping up; what was I doing?

            We sit down at the table, now facing each other. I notice she's looking at me, expectantly. (I also notice a subtle shade of pink colouring her cheeks that I cannot recall being there before.) "...would you like to see the rest of them?" I ask, hesitantly.

            Her big eyes somehow get wider (and trust me, that can be considered an _accomplishment_.) and she lets out and giddy "Yes!". My phone is out of my hands before I can do anything about it.

            She makes a point to make some sort of comment about basically every single picture. Her excitement over such a simple thing is actually quite contagious, and I find myself telling every funny anecdote behind the pictures on the screen. In a particularly ridiculous one involving Gwen, Harry and I, a karaoke machine, a clown and fairy costume and an incredibly unlucky pineapple during our senior year (maybe I'll tell you that one some other time, we'll see.), we laugh so hard the soda I was drinking almost comes out through my nose. Of course, the whole situation just gets us laughing even harder.

            If either of us notices the non-verbal conversation Dad and Mr Stark are clearly having about us, neither makes a point of mentioning it. Right then and there, we are wrapped up in a world of our own.

            Lunch is over way too soon, and I find myself reluctant to say goodbye to Gaby after such a pleasant afternoon. If I'm being honest, I haven't had this much fun since... well, since a few months before Harry left.

            I notice some reluctance in her posture as well, which oddly makes me feel...giddy inside. Huh.

            "So..." We say at the same time, which results in another session of infectious laughter, leaving us breathless by the end of it. "So." Gaby restarts, and I have to hold back the urge to start talking over her just to get some more of that deep, throaty laughter. I shoot a patient smile at her to show she has my attention. "Doyoumaybewannaexchangenumbers?" She blurts out in an admittedly not particularly articulate manner.

            I won't lie, her nervousness is kind of cute.

            I decide not to voice that particular opinion, though.

            She takes a deep breath and starts again, now sounding a lot more graceful, "Erm. Do you maybe wanna exchange numbers?" She throws a lopsided smile in the end and it definitely _doesn't_ make my knees go weak for a second there. It doesn't!

            "Sure, I'm certain I'll have plenty of work-related and _very_ important doubts that simply cannot wait 'til our next meeting." She scoffs at my attempt at humour.

            "If you say so, _Miss Parker-Rogers_." The name rolls off her tongue as if it were a curse and a blessing all at once. It sends a jolt of electricity through my entire body, and when we shake hands, I can still feel all of me tingling. And for once, I can't blame it on the spider-sense.


End file.
